A snippet of how life could be
by Istalindar
Summary: Voldemort has won. Hermione is captive. Draco is servant and bodyguard.The irony of life is that no one gets out alive.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! I realise I've been gone for ages, but life's been frantic…anyway, I have this for you, its finished as far as I can tell, mainly because I got writers block and it seems okay by itself. I know you guys want the rest of other stories, like parkinson family secret and order of tears etc etc and I'm doing my best, but again, I'm hit with writers block and miles of inspiration for other stories which I keep starting…anyway. Tell me what you think about this and I'll attempt to drag endings for the other stories out of the back of my brain, get them on paper then get them up for your reading pleasure. Thanks for you patience and the reviews. Istalindar.

&

Hermione ran the brush through her auburn curls one last time, watching herself in the mirror. She was beautiful, she thought bitterly, no doubt about that. The sleek peacock-blue silk dress clung to all her curves, and a green chiffon wrap adorned her otherwise-bare ivory shoulders, draping to the floor.

"Are you ready, Lady Hermione? Our lord is waiting." Hermione didn't move, still staring at her reflection. She was still tall and slender, despite being the mother of eight children. Mind you, she never actually carried the children and bore them, merely provided the space for fertilization. The joys of being a woman.

The man outside her door, waiting to take her to her escort to the ball, he understood how she felt about her position in society. And strangely, he was the only one she'd be comfortable with, being in that position.

The irony of life is that no one gets out alive.

Hermione smiled slightly, delicate rose-petal lips parting to reveal pearl white teeth.

"Lady Hermione, please. He's waiting." Hermione sighed, picking up the emerald bracelet and fastening it around her slim wrist, before turning to the door.

"I'm here." She said softly. The blond man sighed, partly in relief. Their lord was not someone you kept waiting.

"Are you alright?" He asked, offering his arm. Hermione smiled as she took it.

"Melancholy." Hermione answered, with a delicate one-shoulder shrug. Everything about her was delicate these days, the blonde observed. She had been stronger before he had gone on that mission for their lord, but it seemed she was fading away now, wasting away into a slip of a girl who did as she was told and spent the rest of her time considering ways of getting out of her current predicament. It couldn't be easy, the Gryffindor Golden Girl, being the Dark Lord's First Consort. A prized position to be sure, but the cons definitely outweighed the pros.

"How've you been?" He asked. She tried to smile, he had to give her that.

"Bruised, in a word. He tried to find someone who could wipe them, but all the good ones are guys, and they're completely useless, because they're either to afraid to touch me, or too finger-happy." She didn't say it, but he could see it in her chocolate eyes.

I missed you.

He smiled, then gently detangled his arm from hers as they appeared at the two gargoyles who had once marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office, and now marked the entrance to Voldemort's quarters. The gargoyles didn't say anything anymore, having lost their usually snappish attitude. They, too, had been cowed.

"Ah, there you are, my dear. Looking beautiful, as always." Hermione forced a smile and dipped a small curtsey to the red-eyed man before her. Voldemort smiled, his forked tongue darting between pointed teeth, and he lifted Hermione from her curtsey, and brought one tiny hand to his lips. Then he offered her his arm, and the two of them walked down to the Great Hall, the blonde following them, trying to keep his anger in check.

This monster was destroying Hermione.

They walked through the grand doors and silence at once fell in the Great Hall, as all the revelers inside knelt before their Lord and their Lord's Lady. Voldemort hissed in pleasure, his nails digging into Hermione's arm painfully.

"Welcome, my followers." He said with a smile, his red eyes sweeping the hall. All the expected were here, of course. The usual lackeys, and those who were here in the hopes of increasing their social status. "We are here to celebrate my second's successful return. Draco Malfoy, welcome back." The blonde drew level with the Lord and the Lioness, and bowed to Voldemort.

"My thanks, my Lord. I am honoured that you think so highly of me as to hold such a party in my honour." Draco said clearly and humbly.

"Ah, but we have much to thank you for, do we not, my love?" Voldemort smiled down at Hermione.

"He's your most loyal servant." Hermione answered. Draco did not let his smile slip, despite his roiling emotions. He wasn't as loyal as everyone thought. He had finally given in and betrayed his lord, simply because of a brunette slip of a girl.

"That's good. I'd hate to have to replace him." Voldemort replied coldly. Draco glanced up, but Voldemort's attention had moved on. Hermione sent him a meaningful look before returning her attention to her master.

&

The party wore on, and Hermione was feeling faint and dizzy. She wasn't pregnant…she knew exactly how that felt. She was just…sick. Sick of this entire atmosphere of fawning lackeys and social climbers. People watching her every move, wondering how long she'd last. Suicide was looking more and more attractive, though now that Draco was back she might start feeling better. He was the one real thing in this nightmare.

She watched him doing the social rounds, cradling the glass of red wine. It was strange really, that she had come to count on the man she had hated at Hogwarts. There was a crash from the door and Hermione jumped, the red wine sloshing in the glass. Draco appeared at her side, taking up his normal position of her bodyguard, as appointed by Voldemort. They exchanged looks but said nothing.

The deatheaters backed off to form a semi circle with Voldemort and the newcomers in the middle. Hermione moved forward to stand beside her consort, and Draco kept pace with her to stand on her other side. The newcomers were deatheaters holding several red-headed prisoners captive. Hermione didn't show half the reaction Draco expected her to, in fact, her lack of reaction both shocked and worried him.

Hermione kept herself calm and steady under the gaze of the redheaded prisoners. In fact, she was playing up to her Voldemort's-consort persona, calm, sexy and evil. It worked the first time a Weasley was brought in, why not now?

Staring at her now was Ron, Bill, Fred, George and Ginny. Bill looked at her apraisingly, but said nothing. Perhaps he had talked to Charlie. Fred and George kept their eyes on the floor, and Ginny was staring aghast at Voldemort. Ron was staring right at her.

"Hermione! We thought you were-" The deatheater struck him and he shut up. Hermione laced her arm through Voldemort's, as much of a sign of her new position in the world as a way of drawing a cloak of her evil-persona over her.

"Dead? Why would I let my deatheaters kill her? She's my queen, my lover. Its only normal that the most powerful witch of her generation would become consort to the most powerful wizard of all time."

"Lover?" Ginny choked out. Ron glared at Hermione accusingly. Bill winked, just slightly. So he _had_ talked to Charlie.

Charlie was the first Weasley to be brought in. In fact, he was the first man to sire a child on Hermione. Ironic that a Weasley was being brought up to be a deatheater. Hermione had no idea how the child was. She never saw any of them. She only knew there were eight in total, so far.

Voldemort ran one clawed finger around Hermione's jawline, smiling down at her though his eyes were on his captives. Then he leant down at kissed her, amid disgusted gasps from the Weasleys. Then he pulled back.

"We will have uses for most of you." Voldemort announced, moving away from Hermione. "Though for you…" Voldemort lifted Ginny's chin with one long finger.

"Keep your hands of her, you bastard!" Ron exclaimed, surging forward. Hermione swung out and the back of her hand connected with his cheek. "Traitor!" He snarled. He lunged for her, but Draco punched him back, easily taking his place in front of Hermione.

Hermione stepped back, her heart sinking inside her, but she kept her face flat.

"Take them away." Voldemort ordered. "Keep the girl separate." The deatheaters nodded and dragged the Weasleys off. He turned to Hermione. "It appears you have your work cut out for you." He said with a leer. Hermione smirked, and Draco felt sick to his stomach.

The party resumed much as it had been before its interruption. Dancing, talking, and grovelling and sucking up. Hermione was feeling more and more sick. She wavered and stumbled as she crossed the hall, and Draco was at her side immediately,holding her arm and leading her to one of the cushioned window-seats, and handing her a glass of wine.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just tired, Malfoy." Hermione said, waving away one of his concerns. Draco opened his mouth to say something further but was interrupted.

"Is there a problem?" Draco spun.

"Lady Hermione was feeling a bit unsteady." He answered with a bow. Voldemort stared at his bowed figure, then shifted his red gaze to Hermione.

"Hermione?"

"I'm simply tired, my lord. And perhaps I have had a little too much to drink." Hermione said with a half-smile. "I have not drank alcohol in quite a while and am unused to it." Voldemort nodded and offered his hand. Hermione took it gracefully, and allowed him to pull her off the seat, the two of them walking off into the party without looking at the still-bowing figure of Draco.

&

Late into the night, the party was dying out when it was interrupted again. This time, however, Hermione was already on Voldemort's arm, and saw had the prime view as a black-haired man was brought into the room. She was already fighting a fainting spell, but when she saw those familiar green eyes she nearly dropped on the spot.

"Mr Potter. So kind of you to join us." Voldemort drawled.

"Pleased to oblige, I'm sure." Harry replied easily. His gaze flicked over Hermione and Draco before returning to Voldemort. "How's death and destruction coming along?"

"Much better, recently. You know, it's a shame you have a conscience. It doesn't stop you killing, you know. It just stops you enjoying it." Harry shrugged.

"I suppose, but still. Cant teach an old dog new tricks, right?"

"I'm learning plenty, myself. Who would have known that a Gryffindor would be so good in bed, after all?" Voldemort sent Hermione a fond glance, which she sent back as best as she could, fighting the enroaching darkness of a faint.

"You learn new things every day." Harry answered. His easy and fearless reparte irritated Voldemort.

"I've had enough of him." Voldemort snapped. "Take him to the dungeons, so the Weasleys can see their triumphant hero caught." Hermione saw the first shard of fear flash through Harry's eyes as he was taken away, but said nothing, swaying on her feet.

"It's time to retire, my dear." Voldemort said silkily. He gave Hermione a small push, and she started moving towards the big double doors unsteadily. "You stay, Draco. I'd like to talk to you." Hermione heard him say, before she passed through the doors and sagged against the wall, a moment of respite. Then she made her way upstairs to Dumbledore's old office, and Voldemort's new quarters.

&

Hermione lay on her side, staring out the window. Her back burned, but she didn't dare move. Voldemort had either been very pleased, or very angry with her. It was hard to tell. With him, there was such a fine line between the two that it might as well not exist.

She was used to the way he used her, the way he injured her, the way he enjoyed watching her flinch in pain. She'd been subjected to that for the past seven years. It didn't bother her anymore. But what kept her awake now, aside from the fact she didn't dare sleep, was what Voldemort had said to her just before he'd had his release.

"I know you're sick." He had grunted, his red eyes glowing feverishly down at her. "You're dying, in fact. Arent you pleased?" Hermione had said nothing, just stared up at him as he moved above her. "I gave it to you, made you ill. And I did it in such a way that whoever you slept with would be a walking timebomb, whether they got out or not. Why do you think I never punished you for helping all those prisoners escape? You killed them in the moment you slept with them." Horror crept across Hermione's face as understanding dawned.

"Muggles call it Aids, we don't really have a name for it. But so fitting, don't you think? You have about a month left, I believe."

Then he had had his release and rolled off her, falling asleep almost instantly, while Hermione stared in dumb shock out of the window. The stars, normally bright, were obscured by clouds. Hermione's lash wounds burned, and she knew there had been something on the whip Voldemort had used. It wouldn't be the first time he had poisoned her, and she couldn't really see how it mattered, now. She did not doubt his words about her condition…he knew it would hurt her more to hear the truth and know she had a month, then for him to lie. He was an excellent judge of character, she would give him that.

He rolled over and flung his arm across her, his sharp nails leaving bruising red trails across her pale skin.

"Get out." He muttered, his voice clogged with sleep. Hermione obeyed, sliding out from under his arm, his nails cutting into her skin. If she had nails that sharp and that strong, she thought idly as she walked into the antechamber, she'd claw his red eyes out. The house elf waited holding up her bright blue dress. She stepped into it, but stopped the house-elf fastening it, pulling a black velvet cloak over herself instead. She pulled the hood up, and followed the house-elf through the castle, the small creature holding a black candle with a small flame, so it appeared the light simply floated in the darkness.

At her door, Hermione took the candle from the house-elf with a nod, and pushed open the door, sliding inside, and setting the candle down on the table by the door.

&

Draco paced restly up and down the length of the room, instinctively avoiding objects in the dimly lit room. Seeing Hermione for the first time since he'd returned when she met him outside of her room, when he had been ordered to bring her to Voldemort, had been a shock. He had left a quietly strong woman behind, and returned to a wraith, a tiny woman with a hopeless look in her eyes.

Voldemort had wanted to congratulate him on his success at getting in the good graces of the Order of the Pheonix, spying on them for the dark side. He had also warned him that Hermione wasn't feeling very well, and his services were still required in her upkeep. I.e. he had to cover up any bruises and heal any gashes Hermione received. Anything other than that was left to Draco's discretion, but he was sure Voldemort knew how much he cared for Hermione. Too much, really, for an underdog to care for the Lord's consort and lover. To be sure, Draco and Hermione never slept together, because the moment they did Draco would be as good as dead, but their relationship wasn't exactly innocent, either.

The door creaked open, and a dark shape slid inside. Draco automatically reached for his wand.

"It's only me." She said tiredly. She pushed the hood back, her brown eyes looking huge in her pale face.

"Hermione." Draco took two steps forward and took her face in his hands, frowning at the dark shadows under her eyes and the deep helplessness that echoed in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"No. I hurt like hell. Help me get this off." Draco took the heavy velvet cloak from her shoulders, and laid it across the trunk that stood at the end of the bed. He growled low in his throat when he saw the whip-marks on her back, oozing blood. "That's not all of it. Help me get this dress off and you can get it over with." Draco gently eased the beautiful blue dress off her slight form, his eyes hardening and his mouth set in a thin line as he saw how emaciated she was, her ribs and hips sticking out and her stomach a concave curve towards her spine. Her shoulders and elbows stuck out, and her hands fluttered like helpless birds.

She used to be oh-so-modest about this, Draco having to coax her into taking her clothes off so he could heal the bruises and cuts. But now she just took it off, standing completely naked in the middle of the room, her dark hair tumbling over thin shoulders and taut skin. The clouds blew across the moon, and its dappled light danced across her pale skin.

"Hermione, what happened to you?" Draco whispered, staring.

"I'm sick, Draco. That's all." Hermione answered. "The one's on my back hurt the most, if you could do them first." Draco nodded and moved around behind her, one hand on her waist as he murmured healing charms on the bleeding wounds on her back. Once they had disappeared he tapped the end of his wand on the edge of a dark red pot on the sideboard, and black liquid oozed off the end, a physical remain of the pain and poison that had been in her skin. It puddled in the bottom of the jar, looking both repugnant and malignant. He performed a searching spell on her back, checking for any wounds or bruises that he couldn't see but were still there. A golden stripe appeared across the middle of her back, and he swore.

"He used needles again?" He demanded.

"A rack of them. It doesn't really hurt though." She answered. Draco's heart plummeted at the flatness of her words. He performed a few more spells,and the rack of needles appeared. He gently pulled it out of her skin, red drops of blood forming a grotesque belt across her back. He muttered a healing spell,and they disappeared.

It was a long job. Hermione was practically a pincushion, full of needles she couldn't really feel anymore. She was covered in bruises, and tiny (and not so tiny) scratches and grazes. She stood still throughout his ministrations, listless and quiet. When he was done, he stepped back and looked her over, checking he hadnt missed any, before picking up the long black satin nightdress and helping her into it. Then he gave in and pulled her into a hug, his arm easily encompassing her waist, and her head nestled into the hollow of his shoulder, her left hand entwined in his right.

"What has he done to you, my love?" he murmured into her hair. Hermione didn't say anything, but he could feel tears seeping into his black shirt. She pulled away, walking to the window and staring out.

"I'm dying, Draco. Which is a relief, I suppose." Draco heard the cynical smile in her voice, and saw her dim reflection in the window.

"How?" Draco asked shortly.

"I'm sick. And I cant be cured."

"Wizards can cure most things." Draco said nonchalantly.

"True." Hermione nodded. "But they're as useless as muggles when it comes to Aids, though, arent they?"

"What?" Draco hissed, suddenly furious.

"I've got Aids, Draco. Of all the things I expected to die of, Aids wasn't one of them. Ironic, really." She half turned and smiled at him.

"How could he let this happen?" Draco demanded, joining her by the window.

"He's tired of me, Draco. Bored. I'm not as spirited as I used to be. I'm just tired. And I feel old. Is twenty-four too young to feel old?" She asked curiously.

"If he's bored of you, why doesn't he just kill you?" Draco asked, hating the way that sounded.

"Because he knows that this is a better way to do it." Hermione shrugged and turned to face Draco, leaning against the window. "He knows that by killing me slowly over a month, it'll be worse for me than instant death. I may not be as strong as I used to be, but he knows that dying slowly of an incurable disease would be ten times worse than being killed. Second, any of the men he makes me sleep with end up with Aids, so they're dead whether they escape or not. It's his final laugh. Harry and Ron and everyone else might get out alive…but they'll die of Aids eventually. And thirdly….he knows what it'll do to you, watching me die. He _knows_, Draco. About everything."

"We've not been exactly subtle." Draco conceded. Hermione stepped forward, grasping his hands in a surprisingly tight grip. "No, Draco. He knows _everything_. Including your little liason with Harry."

"Of course he does. He ordered-"

Hermione slapped him, with surprising force. Draco couldn't decide whether to laugh or shout. At least some of the old Hermione was still in there. "Stop it!" she ordered. "Stop trying to lie to me, Draco. You're meant to be a double agent, not a triple agent. And he knows, Draco! He knows! You'll outlive me, but not by much." Draco stared in shock.

"How-"

"Don't be stupid, Draco!" Hermione snarled. "He knows the same way he knows everything else! How could you think you could get it past him? You know its hopeless!"

"The old Hermione would never had said that." Draco snapped back.

"Welcome to reality, Dream-boy!" Hermione retorted. "The old Hermione didn't have to worry about half the things I worry about. Of course we're not the same people anymore."

Draco sagged, the argument gone from him. It was all falling apart now. Hermione was dying…he was on the death-list. Voldemort knew about him and the Order…

"I'm sorry Draco. I didn't mean to shout." Hermione said softly, gently touching the red handprint on his cheek. Draco smiled and kissed her gently.

"That's alright. At least you shouted. You're not as different as you seem." Hermione smiled, then winced. "Go to sleep, Hermione." Draco ordered, and Hermione rolled her eyes before climbing into bed, snuggling into the warmth that was Draco.

&

A knock on the door woke her from her light sleep, and Draco muttered and tightened his grip on her, holding her tighter to him.

"Draco, shh. Someone's at the door." Hermione whispered, slipping away from him. She padded across the room to the door as Draco sat up and swung out of bed. He reached the door before she did and pushed her back. Hermione rolled her eyes at his protectiveness.

"What do you want?" Draco demanded.

"Potter's sick. And he wants to talk to Lady Hermione."

"Can't it wait?" Draco snapped.

"Our lord said to get her, since Potter's keeping our lord awake from the mind link." The servant said. Draco glanced over his shoulder at where Hermione was pulling on black trousers and boots underneath her nightdress, and handed her the heavy black cloak before tossing a shirt on over his black cotton sweatpants and pulling on a pair of boots. He pulled Hermione's hood up over her hair so it nearly covered her eyes before taking her hand and leading her out, past the servant.

&

The dungeons were dank and cold, as was appropriate for the dungeons of Voldemort. Draco was surprised at the ease of which Hermione negotiated them, despite their change in décor and in usage. She walked down the steps to stand in front of the three cells, Fred, George and Bill in one, Harry by himself in the middle and Ron and some nameless other on the other side of Harry's cell.

Harry was lying on his back at the back of the cell, pale and breathing shallowly. Hermione waved Draco back and he faded into the shadowed corner before any of the prisoners even noticed he was there. All they saw the cloaked figure who stood stock still, watching them.

"Are you here to torture him some more?" Ron demanded, standing right up to the bars. Hermione didn't spare him a glance. She continued to watch Harry, before suddenly moving forward and touching the lock with her wand. The door swung open and she stepped through, the door shutting behind her.

She glided to where Harry lay and bent on one knee to look at him. She transferred her wand to her left hand and touched his cheek with her right. Then she felt his hand grip her wrist, and her eyes flew to meet his.

"Boo."

Hermione lurched back, and Harry surged forward, so she ended up lying on the floor with him over her. The hood fell back, revealing Hermione's gaunt face. Harry jumped back, away from her.

"Hermione? Fuck, I'm sorry." He offered her his hand, and she took it, allowing him to help her up. But then he didn't let it go, just held onto her tiny hand. "When did you get so small? I've not grown that much."

"She's sick, Harry. Can't you tell?" The prisoner in the cell with Ron stepped into the dim light, and Hermione took a step back, startled.

"Professor Lupin!"

"Hello, my dear. How are you feeling?"

"Well as expected." Hermione answered easily. Lupin half-smiled. Hermione frowned. "Professor isnt it-"

"Full moon's tomorrow, Miss Granger. Or should I say, Lady Hermione."

"It's Lady Hermione, now, professor." Hermione said, taking her hand back from Harry and clutching her dark cloak tighter around her slight form. "You wanted to talk to me, Harry?"

"I wanted to know what's going on. What game you're playing." Harry asked. Hermione's heart fell. So he thought she was acting. Maybe she had been, at first. Not any more. She was too tired to play games now.

"I'm not playing a game, Harry." Hermione answered. "I'm Voldemort's consort until I die."

"Doesn't sound like it'll be very long. Doesn't look like it either." Bill said. Hermione turned to face him.

"How's Charlie?" she asked. He smiled.

"Thankful." Bill answered. Hermione smiled, though she was panicking inside. Did she have Aids when she slept with Charlie?

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, staring at her. "She betrayed us all!"

"She managed to save Charlie's life in the process." Bill answered. Ron looked surprised.

"So what's your plan to get us out? Because we're stumped." Ron said. Hermione froze.

"I cant. Not again." She whispered.

"So you're gonna let us die in here?" Ron demanded.

"You don't understand anything!" Hermione raged, stamping her foot. "You don't understand me! I cant let you out without…without…I wont! I cant!" Harry grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently. He pushed her against the iron grate that served as a wall between his and Ron's cell, but didn't miss the small hand gesture she made, an unspoken order for Draco not to interfere. Ron gripped her shoulders through the bars, holding her still. Harry stole her wand, and took a step back.

"Explain." Harry ordered, pointing her wand at her.

"It's rude to point." She snapped. Harry lifted an eyebrow.

"What are you going to do about it?" Harry asked sardonically. he glanced at the shadows. "Call your little bodyguard to save you?"

"No. I fight my own battles, though I never thought I'd be fighting you." She replied tartly.

"You betrayed us all." Harry said darkly.

"I didn't tell him anything though, did I?" Hermione demanded. "I never told him anything about you!" she struggled, reaching up to try and get Ron to release his relentless grip. "Ron! You're hurting me!"

"Let her go, Ron." Lupin said softly. Ron merely tightened his grip. Hermione gagged.

"Let her go or you die." Draco stepped into view, still shrouded in his cloak, wand raised.

"Draco, no." Hermione gasped. Lupin grabbed Ron and hauled him back, so Hermione was released. She fell to her knees, coughing and raising one tiny hand to her throat. Draco did not retreat back to the shadows. They knew he was here now, so there would be no point.

"My lady?" Draco asked, but he did not move forward to the cell.

"I'm fine." She wheezed. "Let me get my breath back." They waited as the tiny woman breathed deeply, then reached out and clung to the railings so she could pull herself upright.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded, still wielding Hermione's wand.

"I'm his consort." Hermione said flatly, "and I will be until I die. And I don't have any plans to get you out of here, because the moment you're out you'll all be timebombs, and you'll all die."

"What are you talking about?" Bill asked, concerned.

"I mean I have Aids. Voldemort only lets the prisoners escape after I've slept with them. Once he's assured I'm pregnant, he lets the prisoners 'escape'. They get out, but by then…they have Aids themselves, and they're as good as dead." Hermione explained. Harry turned pale.

"Aids?" He asked eventually. Hermione nodded.

"I only found out tonight." She said softly. "That's why I can't help you escape. I wont give you all Aids."

"Do you mean Voldemort makes you sleep with the prisoners, then lets them go?"Ron demanded. Hermione blinked.

"That's what I said, isnt it?"

"But what about Charlie?" Ron asked.

"He doesn't have Aids, Hermione." Bill said quietly. "He had something…but then there was an accident with the dragons, and all traces of it was wiped out. He's perfectly healthy."

"Thank God." Hermione whispered.

"You slept with Charlie?" Ron yelled. The sound echoed in the dank dungeons, and Hermione covered her ears.

"Don't shout." She whispered. "I did, and we have a son. I have eight kids now…one of them is Charlie's."

"You look good for eight kids." Fred said, coming to the bars separating his and Harry's cell. Hermione smiled briefly.

"I didn't carry them all the way through. I was just where fertilisation happened." She said wryly.

"Lucky you." Fred said with a grin.

"But do you understand why I wont help you get out?" She asked, desperate for them to comprehend her reluctance to save her best friends' lives.'

"I understand." Harry said quietly.

"Lady Hermione…it's late." Draco said softly. She turned to him and nodded.

"All right." She turned back to her friends. "I have to go. I'll see if I can get you moved, Ron."

"You do that. I really don't want to be in here come tomorrow night." Ron commented, but his eyes were still stony and hard.

"Easy, Ron." Harry said, watching as Hermione held out her hand for her wand. He gave it to her, and she smiled briefly.

"You really shouldn't have given it back." She murmured.

"Nah." Harry shrugged. "Then Malfoy would have to get involved, and I'd end up hurt."

"You've grown up." She said.

"I'm not seventeen anymore."Harry replied.

"No, none of us are, not anymore." Hermione shrugged one shoulder before nodding to Draco, who unlocked the cell and supported her as she left the cell.

She didn't look back as she left the cell, but Draco did.

"Take care of her Malfoy." Harry said. Draco nodded.

"I try."

&

The next day, when Draco woke, Hermione was sat at the dressing table, staring at her reflection. She was wearing a scarlet silk dress with a v-neck at both the front at back. Draco could see the steel and ruby necklace in the mirror that hung at her throat, looking heavy and overdone.

"What are you looking at?" Draco asked as he got out of bed.

"Me. I look terrible, don't I?" Hermione asked. Draco smirked.

"Never, my love. But the necklace is all wrong."he undid the clasp, and let the heavy necklace fall into her lap. Then he went to where his jacket was slung over the chair by the armoire and pulled a small velvet box out of it. Opening it, he pulled out a delicate gold necklace from which hung a square-cut ruby pendant. He swept her hair to the side and fastened it at the nape of her neck, his eyes never leaving her reflection as he bent his head and kissed her shoulder.

"That is much better." He murmured. Hermione tried to smile and failed. His smile dropped from his face.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked softly. Hermione averted her eyes.

"I want to see Ginny today." She said. Draco sighed.

"You can do as you please, my love, you know that."

"No, I cant." Her eyes met his again, and she turned around and stood up, so she stood before him. "When you look at me, Draco, what do you see?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, not quite understanding. "What do you mean?"

"What do you see in me that you would sign your death warrant with so little care?" she asked. Draco bent to kiss her but she turned her head away. "Well?"

"Well, maybe its hard to explain." Draco replied.

"This is an order, Lord Malfoy." Hermione said tightly. Draco took a step back in surprise. In the seven years that she had been the first consort and he her bodyguard-doctor, she had _never_ pulled rank on him.

"Hermione, calm down." Draco said instinctively. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"How _dare_ you!" she hissed. "Tell me right now why you would take leave of your sanity to talk with Harry! Harry!" and she said his name like a curse. She jabbed her finger in his chest, forcing him to retreat. "How could you be so completely stupid? Of all things,why that? Why couldn't you go skydiving, or bungee jumping or-" Hermione's eyes were overflowing in tears, which rushed unheeded over her flushed cheeks. "Why on earth did you have to take your own bloody initiative? Why couldn't you just have been normal and follow orders properly? Why did you have to make a mess of everything? Why couldn't you-" Draco jerked Hermione to him, wrapping his arms tightly around him. She broke down into sobs, linking her arms behind his neck and burying her face in his bare chest. "Why?" she gasped, choking on sobs.

"Hush, sweetling. Hush." Draco whispered into her hair while squeezing his eyes shut. This way, he could almost believe everything was going to be okay, that they werent all going to die.

Hermione looked up at him, and his heart contracted at the look of helplessness in her eyes.

"It'll be okay." He murmured, as he leaned down and kissed her.

At first the kiss started off slow and gentle, but then it changed so quickly Draco's head spun, and again, he was reminded of the change that had come over Voldemort's consort. Their kisses before his absence had been sweet, passionate and tinged with the ongoing hope that they'd get out of here alive somehow. Now, as Hermione rose onto her toes and pressed her lips tightly against his, there was an overwhelming sense of desperation in the kiss, as if they were two people abandoned in the middle of the ocean, fully aware that their death was imminent, and unwilling to let go of each other, as though the other could hold one of them up, so that by some miracle, they lived.

After all, those who lived under Voldemort didn't believe in miracles. They relied on them.

"Hermione."

But sometimes miracles are in short supply.

With a gasp, Hermione thrust herself away from Draco and spun, sinking into a deep curtsey before Voldemort. She let her head hang down and her hair fall forward to shield her face.

"Come, Hermione. There is business to attend to." Hermione rose from the floor and joined Voldemort. She did not look back. But Voldemort did, and the meaning was clear.

In less than a month, you'll both be dead.

&


	2. Chapter 2

Snippet was meant to be a one shot, but it just kept going on long after I'd posted it, so here's part two. I wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed Eighteen Months, and I'm sorry I made everyone cry. I hope you like this, tell me what you think. Istalindar

Ginny was chafing at her confinement, in one of the lesser guest rooms, which had been double-locked and warded to ensure her extended stay. She had hurt the pride and privates of several deatheaters, and she was currently being punished by the absence of food. Not that it mattered, she refused to touch it anyway.

"Hello Ginny." Hermione let herself into the room, followed as usual by Draco.

"You bitch." Ginny said, launching herself at Hermione. Draco was in front of Hermione instantly, holding off Ginny's attack. "And you!"

"Be quiet, Ginny." Hermione said, moving from behind Draco and sitting down in one of the armchairs by the fire. Draco was at her side instantly, murmuring quiet inquiries to her health. She waved him away and Ginny sneered.

"You really are the little imperious queen, aren't you? Are you aware of what he's doing for you?"

"I always have been, Ginny." Hermione said tiredly. "He's kept me alive for the last seven years, just with the knowledge that he's still alive. But now…" she shook her head. "Are they keeping you well?"

"If you can be kept well?"

"I will arrange for you to see the others, if I can. They're well enough, Ron's been moved out of Lupin's cell so when the moon rises he'll be safe. Other than that, there's very little I can do for them."

"Charlie said that you got him out." Ginny murmured, so softly that Hermione barely heard her.

"I did, at a cost I didn't realise that nearly took his life. I'm not going to kill the rest of them too."

"They'll die if you don't." Ginny said pointedly.

"You don't know what you're asking me to do." Hermione said, looking up and meeting Ginny's eyes for the first time since she walked into the room. "I have AIDs, Ginny. The terms for release is that I have sex with them, they get me pregnant, they go 'free', with a maximum of three years left. It's a fairly acute strain of AIDs."

"And you gave that to Charlie." Ginny said, her voice dripping disgust.

"She didn't know." Draco said quietly as Hermione looked away. "She only found out yesterday that she has a month to live, and what she had done. She may be queen here, Ginny, but she has it harder than any of us."

"It can't be easy, being the most powerful woman in the world."

"Power?" Hermione laughed, and Ginny and Draco both stared at the harsh sound. "Power. What is power in a fucking gilded cage, huh? I have the power to wear pretty dresses, to flirt with a man I despise, to be subject to his S&M fantasies, but not the power to kiss the man I love without guilt, without knowing that when I am dead, he'll follow shortly after. That he's going to die because he loved me enough to risk everything, and it's my fault." Hermione looked at Ginny. "I have the power to save my friends from Voldemort's dungeons, but the cost is that I spread my disease around, and give Voldemort my children, their children, to raise as his own little deatheaters. Think about it – Harry Potter's only son, a fanatical deatheater. Yes, Ginny. I have power. But not the power to save anyone. And at this point, that's the only kind of power that matters."

"Hermione-"

"My lady, the Dark Lord wishes your presence." The servant stepped into the room, his little blue eyes calculating. He had heard every word. Hermione nodded and rose, taking Draco's proferred arm.

"I will save you if I can, Ginny. In the meantime, keep yourself alive." Hermione gave a bleak smile and allowed Draco to guide her out of the room, glancing over her shoulder as the door shut behind her, and saw Ginny watching her go.

&

"Well, Hermione?" Hermione stood in front of Voldemort in the empty hall. Everyone, including Draco, had been sent away. "Will you save your friends?"

"You know it's no rescue." Hermione said evenly. Voldemort struck out and she hit the floor, cracking her head painfully against the marble floor.

"Will you do it?" he hissed.

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" Voldemort demanded furiously, rising. Hermione glared up at him from the floor.

"I mean I'm dying. My friends will die regardless. I have nothing to lose at all, now. I don't care what you do!"

"Oh really?" Voldemort said silkily. "Bring him in." he addressed a servant. Hermione watched the servant go to a side door, and return with a two year old boy with flaming red hair and blue eyes.

"James, say hello to your mummy." Voldemort said gently. The little boy, James, looked at Hermione.

"Mummy!" he cried out, and ran to her. Hermione levered herself into a sitting position in time to catch the boy in her arms. He hugged her tight, and she closed her eyes tightly against the tears as she pressed her lips to her son's infamous red hair.

All the Weasleys had that colour hair. Even their two-year old sons.

"The carers said you were busy, mummy, that's why you don't come see us. Why are you so busy? We miss you mummy. Every night we say prayers that you'll be a good person mummy, and I always pray you'll come see us. Will you, mummy? We all miss you."

Hermione was sobbing, tears streaming down her face. Little James leaned back in her arms, and wiped her tears away with his small hands, and kissed her cheek.

"Don't cry mummy. I didn't mean to make you cry." He looked ready to cry himself. Hermione sniffed and smiled.

"Oh, don't worry, my love. I'm sorry I didn't come see you…I'm crying because I'm very happy. I've missed you too, darling." She hugged him close again. "I'm so sorry, my darling. I'm so, so sorry." She looked up at Voldemort, who looked on with an amused expression. "Are they sick too?" she demanded. "Are they?"

"Of course not. They're perfectly healthy. But they miss you, mummy." He said in a sickly sweet voice. "They don't want you to be naughty, because if you're naughty, it makes them look bad, and then the carers might think they're being naughty. What happens if you're naughty, James?"

"We get punished." James looked up. "The carer says crucio, and it hurts for a few seconds." He shook his head vehemently. Hermione inhaled sharply, and, gathering him in her arms, stood up.

"You do crucio on children?" She demanded in a harsh whisper. "How could you? You _monster_!"

"Don't say naughty words, mummy." Voldemort chided. He descended his dais, and took James from her unwilling arms. He looked at James. "Mummy's been very naughty, James. What happens to naughty people?" James shook his head. "Come now, James, tell daddy. What happens if you're naughty?"

"You're not his father." Hermione hissed. "Don't you dare call yourself that?"

"James?"

"Crucio happens if you're naughty." James whispered.

"That's very true." Voldemort withdrew his wand and Hermione swallowed, determined not to scream in front of his son. Voldemort raised his wand.

"I'll do it." She said quickly. Voldemort smiled.

"What else do naughty children say?" He asked her sweetly. Hermione swallowed again.

"I'm sorry." She choked out. Voldemort smiled.

"That's a good girl. Now say goodbye to James, and maybe you'll see him later." Hermione took James from his arms, and took a few steps away.

"I love you." She whispered fiercely. "I love you all! Don't forget that. Promise mummy. No matter what happens, I'll always love you. Promise mummy you'll remember."

"I promise mummy." James kissed the tip of her nose, then leaned forward and brushed his eyelashes against her cheek. "Butterfly kisses!" Hermione gasped a sob, and returned the gesture.

"Butterfly kisses." She whispered raggedly. "I love you, be good." She kissed him, and then reluctantly set him down beside the servant. When she turned back to Voldemort, he was watching her.

"May I go?" She whispered, "Please?"

"Since you're so polite about it, you may. What do you say?"

"Thank you, my lord," Hermione said, sinking to her knees and bowing her head.

"Good girl. Off you go."

Hermione stood up and fled the hall.

&

Draco found her in her room, curled up on the bed and crushing the scarlet dress. A pillow was over her head and her entire body was shaking violently. He quickly shut the door and climbed onto the bed, scooping her up and out from under the pillow into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest as she sobbed.

"Hush darling, it's alright. It's alright my love." He whispered, her tears drawing his own to the surface.

Everything was so fucking hopeless!

_Keep it together, she needs you._

"What is it?" he asked. She pulled away, sniffing and scrubbing at her tears.

"I told him I wouldn't sleep with them." She said softly.

"What?" Draco demanded. "But they'll die! You're sentencing them to torture and execution!"

"Thanks, like I didn't know that already." Hermione glared. "Don't worry, he made me agree in the end. He always does." She leaned back against his chest and said no more, though one of her hands snagged his and held on tight.

"What did he do?"

"Show me my son." She whispered.

"What? What son?" he sounded hurt, and Hermione drew back.

"How could you not know? I ranted about them to Ginny just this morning! It's common knowledge."

"I've been away." Draco pointed out.

"So you have." She agreed, leaning back in. "I have eight kids, courtesy of all the Order members that I 'saved'. Gave AIDs too, actually, but you wonder if there's a difference. One of them is James Weasley, Charlie's kid. He's adorable beyond measure, and looks just like his dad. But he _loved_ me, Draco! He said he missed me and prayed I'd be a good person and that I'd go see them. He said they all prayed for that! They've never even met me, and they miss me." Tears sprang from her eyes again, and she swallowed. "Voldemort threatened him. Said if I didn't agree he'd use crucio. Apparently that's what happens when they're naughty. I can't believe he'd be such a monster!"

"It's believable. Hell, its one of the more normal things he's done. Most of the Slytherin parents used it when we were little to discipline us. My parents, Pansy's, Blaise's. It's usual in our house."

"It happened to you?" She asked softly, and caressed his cheek with her hand. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." He shrugged. "It's almost an advantage in a way. Crucio for a certain length of time wouldn't affect me in nearly the same way it would, say, Potter. Or Weasley."

"Or me." Hermione whispered.

"Or you." Draco confirmed. She swallowed hard, burying her face in his neck again.

"I don't want to do this." She whispered. "I can't!"

"Let me do it." Draco said. She knew back, frowning deeply.

"What? You're joking." He shook his head.

"Polyjuice."

"That's…obscene." She shook her head.

"Not as obscene as what he does to you." Draco said, stroking her hair. "Believe me, I have _never_ had a thing for Potter or his cronies in any way, ever. But I will do this for you, Hermione." She shook her head.

"And after an hour? You've been away, Draco, you don't understand. It's one after the other. One night, one bed, longer than one hour. When the hour wore off they'd see you. You'd be dead quicker than than you could see the shock in their eyes."

"So you're saying you'll do it?" Draco asked, pulling back gently and meeting her gaze. "Hermione, besides the ethics of it, I don't even think you're strong enough!"

"Trust me, I don't do much. Whoever is supervising performs a spell that makes them desperate. They barely see me. All they see is somewhere to stick it. It's afterwards when they've released that it gets messy. Because then they recognise me and it goes pear shaped. All I have to do is lie there." Draco just stared at her in horror and she smiled, one hand caressing his cheek. "It's alright, Draco."

"It's mass rape!" He hissed, the horror in his eyes turning quickly to rage. She met his eyes.

"Do you think any one of my sexual encounters since Voldemort's rise has been anything but? My body and mind are jaded to it, Draco. That's one small blessing." Draco didn't answer, though he clearly disagreed.

"I can't let you do it." He said flatly. She raised her eyebrows.

"So your plan is?"

"To get out." She snorted.

"You think I haven't tried, Draco?" She asked. "The only way out of here is…" she stopped. "No. I won't let you." He shrugged.

"I'm dead anyway." He said. "And so are you. So what difference does it make? At least it's on our terms." She stared. "It's only a suggestion, Hermione. A contingency plan."

"It's brilliant." Hermione said. "We'll give them what they need to leave, and then we'll also go. They'll get out, so will we, all's well." He smiled.

"Alright then."

&

Draco visited the cells of his once-enemies and stood out of harms way as Ron launched himself at the bars, swearing up a storm. Once he had subsided, Harry stepped forward.

"Malfoy."

"Potter. The Lady Consort told me to give this to you." He stepped forward and handed a small paper packet through the bars. "It has to be done exactly as it says. There is no other way." Harry stared at Draco.

"We're not leaving her."

"I've got her taken care of, Potter. She won't take the fall for this. Not for anything ever again." Harry nodded, the stony look in Malfoy's eyes enough to make him accept what the other man said. After all, Draco had risked everything to contact the Light side to help her.

"Good luck." Draco said, backing away and heading for the stairs. Harry nodded.

"You too."

Draco quickly made his way up the stairs and into the main entrance hall, where Hermione waited with attendants and a few guards.

"You ready?" He asked. She nodded with a smile.

"Lord Malfoy." Everyone in the room fell to their knees, head bowed, as the Dark Lord appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Where are you taking my consort?"

"To the cliffs, my lord." Draco said, eyes on the ground, guarding his mind fiercely. "For the afternoon."

"With guards." Voldemort said flatly.

"Of course, my lord." Draco said. Voldemort nodded.

"Hermione."

"Yes, my lord?" Her voice wavered, but Draco didn't dare look at her.

"Will you do your duty by me?" He asked. There was a pause. "Will you?" Draco heard Hermione's sigh.

"Yes, my lord." She whispered. Voldemort chuckled.

"As I expected. Well, then. Hermione, dear, enjoy yourself." Voldemort vanished and Draco stood.

"Are preparations complete?" He demanded coldly. The servants nodded. "Then we wish to depart. Now." The servants ushered Hermione and Draco to the door, outside which the carriage waited. They climbed in, settling themselves on the velvet seats, and looked at each other. Hermione managed a weak smile and crossed her fingers. Draco smiled back.

&

The cliffs were towering stacks of limestone overhanging sharp wave-beaten rocks below. The place commanded an astounding view of the surrounding land and sea, being the highest point around for many miles. It had been a favourite place of Hermione's when she had first become Consort, and she had come here often.

In the 3 years since she had been here, it hadn't changed. The grass was still speckled with daisies and buttercups, cut short by wandering sheep. To the west the sea stretched as far as the eye could see, and behind her were rolling hills of grass and crops. It was up here, with the wind whipping her hair against her face and tugging at her dress, that Hermione had felt free from the restraints of her role as Voldemort's queen.

"Are you alright?" Draco joined her on the edge of the cliffs, on hand resting on the small of her back, unseen by the servants. She nodded with a smile.

"I'm feeling the best I've felt in years." He smirked. "Isn't that ironic?"

"What you're feeling, beloved, is escape." Draco said softly, the wind whipping his words away so Hermione had to lipread. She nodded and returned to where the servants were laying out the picnic.

"Enough, thank you." She smiled as she waved them away. She settled herself on the blanket, taking her pick of the food spread before her. Draco joined her. "So? Do you think our lord has further cause to send you away again?" she asked, the small talk setting the servants at ease. Their mistress had been distressed lately, and more prone to breakdowns than she usually was. Draco shrugged.

"No way of knowing. Only Lord Voldemort knows the true extent of his plans."

"Wise." Hermione commented, lifting a glass of wine to her lips. Draco nodded.

"Of course. There are spies among us, after all." She nodded, wishing this whole pretense was over.

&

The skies were darkening, rain coming in from the sea. The wind had picked up, and Draco went to where Hermione stood facing the water. Behind him he could hear the servants packing up.

"Love? Are you alright?" She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled, and he was suddenly reminded of the girl from Hogwarts who drove him mad.

"I'm wonderful." She said softly. "Strong and free and smart and –"

"The most beautiful and utterly captivating creature I've ever laid eyes on." He said with a smile. He could feel the time drawing near, feel it pulsing in his veins. When he laid his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him as he stepped closer to the edge, he could feel it in her, too. She smiled.

"You never thought so at school."

"I was an idiot at school, wasn't I? This wasn't what I had in mind at all."

"No? You're rich, powerful…what were you hoping for?"

"I wasn't expecting to fall in love with Lord Voldemort's Consort. Wasn't expecting to have to watch her die."

"You won't." Hermione promised, pressing her hand to his cheek as she stepped closer to him. He smiled, in part because she was indeed the most beautiful and captivating creature he had ever seen, but also because he heard the soft chatter of the servants stop as they suddenly noticed what their Mistress and their Lord's servant were doing. "And neither will I."

"Small mercies."

"Great ones." She corrected, stepping into his arms and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I love you, you know. More than anything." He smiled.

"Good." He paused. "I love you." She smiled, and he dipped his head to kiss her, his lips brushing against hers softly, barely a whisper of contact. Then again, stronger, and deeper as she pulled his head down to hers, slanting their mouths together.

"Hey there!" The guards stepped forward, and Draco raised his head long enough for both him and Hermione to stare straight into the eyes of the guards and the servants, burning the image of the two lovers into the minds of the others like two heroes out of a tragic romance, before they suddenly disappeared, plummeting over the edge without a sound.

Sweet, dark oblivion.

Finis


End file.
